


a little room to breathe

by qynntessence



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU where GroupMe is a functional app, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asthma, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qynntessence/pseuds/qynntessence
Summary: Viktor blows his nose wetly and blushes, turning away from Yuuri’s kind eyes. “Can-Can I have another tissue?” He blows his nose again, a thick, congested sound, which turns into thick, congested sneezing. “I’m sorry, I know it can't be much fun to take care of your sick fiancé when you have a cold. Asthma sucks.”In which Yuuri has a cold (and also anxiety), Viktor has the flu (and also asthma), and they're messy and in love and try their best.





	1. #SkaterShaming

**Author's Note:**

> Some things to note:  
> 1\. This takes place in April of 2018, so about a year and a half after the end of season 1.  
> 2\. This story will not be all fluff? There is a lot of angst coming and a lot of character exploration I'm looking forward to. But it will end okay.  
> 3\. I am a College Student and thus am very bad at having a set update schedule? So I will post things as they get done, but finals week is soon/I should probably prioritize paper-writing over fanfiction-writing.
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who's listened to me scream about this fic in the past few weeks, but especially iceprinceofbelair for dealing with me sending so many snippets at 2 in the morning.
> 
> Finally, some translations:  
> dushen’ka - darling  
> lyubov moya - my love  
> zvyezdochka moya - my star  
> solnishko moyo - my sunshine
> 
> And Viten'ka is one of the affectionate diminutives of Viktor (like, a level above Vitya).
> 
> TW for mild descriptions of anxiety

Yuuri wakes with a sniffle and a cough against his fiancé’s chest. He winces against the bright light of Viktor’s phone, which is immediately turned away as a hand finds its way into his hair.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Viktor almost purrs, voice quiet against Yuuri’s temple. “You slept in. It’s nearly noon. How’s your throat?” He asks, lips pressed to his neck now.

“Okay. Sore.” Yuuri says quietly. “Headache’s worse.” He adds before Viktor can ask, turns away to sneeze against his shoulder.

“Bless you, dushen’ka. I’m sorry you’re still not feeling well.” Viktor rubs his back gently and hands him the box of tissues on the nightstand.

“It’s just a cold, Vitya. I’m fine.” He sniffles again and leans his head against Viktor’s shoulder, cool and steady.

“It’s been ‘just a cold’ for nearly a week, Yuuri.”

“Four days.” He corrects quietly, feeling the roughness in his throat. “I get sick slowly, that’s all.”

“You said. But you sound much worse than you did last night, lyubov moya, and you’re warmer.” Viktor’s arms come around his back to hold him closer, and he makes a little noise of protest at the pressure, his skin already too hot and too tight. Viktor lets go immediately, offering his hand instead. The light from the window shimmers off his ring and Yuuri scrunches his eyes closed as his head throbs, the pulsing and heat and pressure all too much.

Viktor pulls away completely, quietly closing the curtains before moving back towards him. Yuuri feels the blankets being pulled off, Viktor tapping twice at his wrist, asking silent permission to remove the jacket that’s twisted around his body. Yuuri nods, the chills from last night having been replaced with this overwhelming, constricting heat, and cool air brushes over his arms as he’s left in his t-shirt.

“Yuuri? Touching or no touching?” Viktor keeps his voice soft and low.

“No touching, please. Sorry.” He tacks on the apology as an afterthought, not wanting Viktor to think he’s unappreciative. His eyes stay firmly closed against the world.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Yuuri. Do you want me to stay or do you want to be alone right now?” His voice is still quiet, calm as he goes through the questions that Yuuri has answered countless times.

“Can I be alone, please?” He sneezes again, twice, and the movement makes the pain in his head swell. He winces before Viktor gently taps the tissue box near his thigh.

“Of course. I’m going to go and take Makkachin on a walk, and I’ll pick up some more decongestants and cough syrup, okay?” Yuuri sniffles and blows his nose again before nodding. “And some softer tissues, I think.” He muses, noticing how rough and red Yuuri’s nose is becoming.

“Thank you, Vitya.” Yuuri mumbles.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll be back soon.”

Yuuri hears Viktor quietly going about their room- pulling off his pajama pants, brushing his teeth, unplugging his phone and tucking it into his pocket- and covers his head with a pillow, trying to breathe out all the tension that’s found its way into his body. He hears glass against wood, feels two fingers pressing into the back of his hand- Viktor’s leaving- and the world finally goes silent. He breathes out again, ignoring the catch in his throat, willing the tightness and heat and overwhelming sensation to leave with it.

It doesn’t leave all at once, but the water helps with his throat, and the only sound in the room is his own stuffy breathing, and he feels the hand constricting his chest loosen as he sits up. After an hour, another silent pressure against his knuckles informs Yuuri of Viktor’s return, and Yuuri turns his hand to entwine their fingers. Viktor squeezes, softly, and Yuuri opens his eyes to Viktor’s, soft and full of loving affection. He smiles, quiet and warm, and Yuuri falls in love all over again.

They eat breakfast with the lights off- cereal and muffins and orange juice, and two smooth pill capsules for Yuuri- and Viktor passes him the tissue box when he starts sniffling again. Yuuri quietly tugs Viktor back to the bedroom, curling up with his head on Viktor’s lap as the older man pulls up their Netflix account, laptop turned down to the lowest brightness.

“Yuuri. Sitting up is going to help that cough a lot more, lyubov moya.” Viktor murmurs softly as his fiancée shakes in his lap. Yuuri glares up at him, but the spirit is lost with his watery eyes and chapped lips, breathing still heavy.

“I know.” He mumbles, voice still hoarse, and Viktor hands him the glass of water on the table as Yuuri sits up and leans against him.

“May I?” Viktor asks softly, snaking an arm around Yuuri’s waist to keep him steady. Yuuri nods before his head drops to Viktor’s shoulder and the laptop speakers begin the theme tune to Parks and Recreation.

 

“How’s your headache?” Viktor asks a few hours later, lips cool against Yuuri’s forehead. “Your fever seems to be lower.”

“I don’t think kissing me is the best way to take my temperature, Vitya.” Yuuri murmurs, but he’s not complaining. “Headache’s better, now that I can breathe. Thank you.” He shivers again, and Viktor pulls the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. “You know, you don’t have to do this. It’s just a cold, and it’s really not that bad.”

“Hmm, doesn’t matter. Does this make you feel better, even just a little bit?” Yuuri nods shyly, and Viktor squeezes his hand. “Then it’s worth it. Think you’re up to a little more food? I don’t want you to take any more meds on an empty stomach, I know they make you feel sick.” Yuuri yawns in response, the intake of breath catching on his throat and bending him into a cough. Viktor rubs his back softly. “Maybe sleep instead?”

“Mmm. Yeah, that.” Yuuri nuzzles against Viktor’s collarbone before closing his eyes, trying to take deep, even breaths. His chest still hurts, but he’s no longer overwarm and filled with tension, so he falls asleep against Viktor’s chest, arms around his torso to keep him upright and breathing.

 

**GroupMe: Worlds 2018 Photodump**

**5:24 PM**

_Phichit Chulanont has added Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, and 12 others to the group._

_Phichit Chulanont: Hey! Hope everyone is enjoying that post-season crash; I think I slept for 40 hours in the first two days back. I took a bunch of pictures during Worlds and honestly I’m not going to send them all to you individually, so here you go:_

_Phichit Chulanont: [15 photos attached]_

_Phichit Chulanont: [17 photos attached]_

_Phichit Chulanont: [16 photos attached]_

_Phichit Chulanont: [14 photos attached]_

Viktor scrolls through the pages of photos, carefully saving each of them to his phone. Yuuri snores softly into his shoulder, and he runs a hand over his back as Yuuri coughs.

Viktor knows it isn’t uncommon to come down with something right after a competition- he’d returned from Worlds enough times wheezing and warm on the plane ride back- but that doesn’t make it any easier to have his feverish, overwhelmed fiancé curled around him, every congested sniffle causing Yuuri’s face to crumple in discomfort.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri.” Viktor whispers to no one in particular, kissing Yuuri’s overheated temple and pulling him closer when the shivers start up again.

_Phichit Chulanont: There! Done! So how is everyone doing?_

_Yuri Plisetsky: Phichit, you literally drained my battery 20 percent with all of these photos, what the fuck_

_Phichit Chulanont: It’s not my fault I’m the only one with a good camera besides Viktor_

_Phichit Chulanont: Speaking of, **@Viktor Nikiforov** , where are your photos?_

_Viktor Nikiforov: I’ll send them soon- phone’s low on battery, sorry._

_Yuri Plisetsky: You’re literally at home watching Parks and Rec, you posted about it on Instagram an hour ago_

_Viktor Nikiforov: Yes, and my charger is across the room?? Which would involve moving and waking Yuuri up???_

_Yuri Plisetsky: why the fuck is he sleeping at 6pm_

_Yuri Plisetsky: who the fuck sleeps at 6pm_

_Viktor Nikiforov: olympic gold medalists, apparently_

_Yuri Plisetsky: fuck you_

Viktor can feel Yuuri stirring against his chest, and he moves to press a hand against his forehead. Yuuri leans into the touch, curling himself into Viktor with his forehead now nestled against Viktor’s neck. He’s not shaking anymore and doesn’t seem to be pulling away from sensation, which Viktor considers an improvement.

“V-Vitya?” Yuuri yawns, voice filled with congestion, but he doesn’t wince when he speaks.

“Right here. I can move if you don’t want touch right now.” Viktor reminds him gently, but Yuuri shakes his head and snuggles closer, coughing lightly as he does so. Yuuri sneezes, kitten-soft, and Viktor passes him the tissue box.

“Mmm. Like you holding me.” He mumbles. “Feels nice. Soft.” Viktor laughs as Yuuri sighs against his chest, breath tickling his neck.

“I’ll keep holding you as long as you want me to, dushen’ka. Or until I have to pee, whichever comes first.” Yuuri coughs again, deeper this time, and Viktor draws small circles on the back of his neck. “That doesn’t sound so good. Do you want more cold medicine?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “It’ll make me sleepy, and it’s not that bad.” He fumbles for his phone and scrolls through his messages, chastising Viktor as he does. “Don’t be mean to Yura.”

“Your voice still sounds off.” Viktor says, ignoring Yuuri’s last comment. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get more medicine? Or tea or something? I can-”

“Viten’ka. _Zvyezdochka moya._ ” Viktor’s chest goes warm at Yuuri’s accented Russian, arms tightening around his smaller frame. “It’s just a cold. I’m honestly fine. If I want or need something, I’ll tell you, okay? It’s just a cold.”

“It’s just a cold.” Viktor repeats quietly, kissing Yuuri’s shoulder. “I know. I just don’t like seeing you when you don’t feel well. It makes my heart hurt.” He mumbles the last bit, but Yuuri flushes a deep red before kissing Viktor’s jawbone.

“It’s okay. I’m going to go shower, it’ll probably help with the congestion. Come wash my hair for me?” Yuuri asks softly, eyes warm, and its Viktor’s turn to blush. He tilts Yuuri’s head up for a kiss, but Yuuri shakes his head. “I love you, but I’m not risking you catching this, Vitya, not with your asthma.” Yuuri kisses Viktor’s chest instead before crawling off his lap, slowly peeling off sweaty layers before walking into the bathroom.

Viktor follows eagerly.

 

**GroupMe: Worlds 2018 Photodump**

**8:43 PM**

_Viktor Nikiforov: [16 photos attached]_

_Viktor Nikiforov: [13 photos attached]_

_Viktor Nikiforov: [14 photos attached]_

_Viktor Nikiforov: [9 photos attached]_

_Viktor Nikiforov: **@Phichit Chulanont** , these are all the ones I have._

_Phichit Chulanont: Thank you!!_

_Phichit Chulanont: I’ll take it that **@Yuuri Katsuki** has decided to wake up and finally be a real person?_

_Yuuri Katsuki: It’s literally 5 days after Worlds, I can sleep all I want_

_Yuri Plisetsky: I’m just personally offended that you fell asleep during Parks and Rec_

_Yuri Plisetsky: That show is amazing and deserves your full attention_

_Yuuri Katsuki: Yura, I’ve seen you pass out during Harry Potter_

_Yuuri Katsuki: If you get to sleep through the cinematic masterpiece that defined a generation, I can sleep through a few episodes of a sitcom_

_Phichit Chulanont: Yuuri, you slept through Lord of the Rings_

_Viktor Nikiforov: you did what now_

_Christophe Giacometti: Viktor, you fell asleep in the middle of Steven Universe_

_Viktor Nikiforov: I think what we’re learning here is that we all need more sleep_

_Viktor Nikiforov: and also that Chris fell asleep during Brooklyn 99_

**Phichit Chulanont changed group name to #SkaterShaming**

**10:06 PM**

_Viktor Nikiforov: **@Yuuri Katsuki** fell asleep during Parks and Rec again_

_Viktor Nikiforov: source: he’s cute when he snores_

_Yuri Plisetsky: **@Yuuri Katsuki** you’re dead to me_

Yuuri knows the rises and falls of Viktor’s chest. He’s fallen asleep with Viktor curled around his back, with his head pillowed under Viktor’s chin, with his arms resting over Viktor’s heart. He knows the pattern of Viktor’s breathing when he first finishes a workout, when he’s deep in sleep, when he curls up quietly in Yuuri’s arms after crying. So when the rising gets faster, the deep, even breaths that usually come with sleep become short and choppy, Yuuri wakes immediately, drowsy and worried.

Viktor’s eyes are already open, his hand is already over his mouth, and his eyes are already apologetic.

“Did- didn’t want t-to wake you.” He forces out, trying to swallow back the coughs that are already wracking his body. “S-Sorry.”

“Vitya.” Yuuri says quietly, sitting up from where his head was resting against Viktor’s. He bites back the dizziness and blinks quickly. “I’m already awake, _solnishko moyo_ , it’s okay.”

Viktor nods miserably and the coughs pour out of his chapped lips, hitting the mattress like raindrops. Yuuri gently repositions them so that his arms are wrapped around Viktor’s torso, keeping him upright as his lungs spasm and his chest aches.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m right here, Vitya. You’re not doing this alone, I’ve got you safe and sound right here.” His voice is a little rough around the edges, but Viktor is _hot_ and _shaking_ and _terrified_ and that’s all that matters right now.

Viktor’s fit finally calms and he buries his face in Yuuri’s neck, whimpering softly. “Hurts.” His breath is coming in short wheezes and Yuuri can see the next round of coughs building in his shaking chest.

“I know, Viten’ka, I know. You’re safe. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Viktor nods into his neck and the next fit starts, a flurry of breath hot against Yuuri’s collarbone. Yuuri runs soothing hands up and down Viktor’s back, murmuring quietly until the older man has collapsed against him, breathing in hard wheezes and light coughs.

“What do you need?” Yuuri asks softly, fidgeting at the heat radiating off Viktor’s shuddering form now that his initial panic has died down. “Vitya, sweetheart, you need to talk to me. Do you need your inhaler?”

Viktor nods weakly after a few seconds, and Yuuri searches blindly in the bedside table drawer before his fingers wrap around cool plastic. “Here you go. I’ve got you, Vitya, you’re okay.” Viktor sucks in, hard, and holds his breath as Yuuri gently wipes away a few stray tears with the pad of his thumb. “There we go. When you’re done, we’re going to take your temperature and get you some water, okay? I think you’re sick.”

Viktor somehow manages to pout while still holding his breath, but once he breathes out, Viktor reluctantly lets go of Yuuri so he can retrieve the thermometer and water.

“I’ll be right back, Vitya.” Yuuri reminds him softly, his own breath catching against his sore throat. He kisses Viktor’s forehead- definitely too warm, _fuck_ \- and returns quickly, balancing the thermometer, water, and a box of tissues.

Viktor opens his mouth without hesitation and curls back around Yuuri once he sits down, practically sitting in Yuuri’s lap. Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor and rests his hands on the other man’s chest, lightly running his thumb over the fine hair.

“Don’t you do that again.” Yuuri says quietly, kissing right above Viktor’s ear. “Don’t try to swallow down an attack because you’re worried about waking me up. They’re _always_ worse when you fight it, you know that, and they don’t just go away. I’m going to wake up regardless, okay?” Viktor looks like he wants to argue, but his cheeks are too flushed and his skin is too pale and his eyes are too watery and so he just nods sadly until the thermometer beeps, and when Yuuri removes it, he turns and nuzzles back into his fiancé’s neck.

“’m sorry Yuuri.” He mumbles, and Yuuri strokes the soft skin at the back of his neck.

“I know. It’s okay, Vitya.” He kisses the mop of silver hair. “But. You’re definitely sick. Not even you can argue with the thermometer. So you need to tell me what you want and need, okay? So you can feel better.”

“You’re sick too.” Viktor mumbles against his shirt, and Yuuri can suddenly feel the heat in his skin, the congestion he’s been ignoring, the burn in his throat.

“I know. But I have a cold, Vitya, and I’m pretty sure you have the flu. And asthma. So you’re going to have to trust me to take care of me, and be honest so I can take care of you. Does that sound like something you can do?” Yuuri keeps his voice calm and quiet, remembering the sensitive, scared Viktor who had called him in the cab home from Russian Nationals, wheezy breaths still shooting panic through Yuuri’s heart in Japan.

Viktor nods weakly and reaches towards the glass near the bed. “Can I have water please?”

Yuuri hands it to him before grabbing half-frantically at the box of tissues, sneezing twice and wincing at the impact on his throat. He coughs a few times before tossing the tissues in the trash and checking the time on his phone; it’s three in the morning and he can feel the exhaustion dragging him back down.

“I’m sorry you’re still not feeling well, dushen’ka.” Viktor says hoarsely, reaching for Yuuri and kissing his temples. Yuuri wishes it was yesterday again, when Viktor had said those words without a hitch in his breath and tears still leaking out of his eyes. Yuuri hates how Viktor was fine five hours earlier, how easily illness can sneak up on him, how even the slightest respiratory problem turns Viktor into a shaking, sweating, wheezing mess.

“Just a cold.” Yuuri reminds him. “It’s three in the morning, Vitya. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Viktor nods weakly before sniffling against Yuuri’s shoulder, rubbing his face against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “Feel sick, Yuuri.” Viktor is so absolutely exhausted in this moment, pale skin and fever flushed cheeks and raspy voice, all wide-eyed innocence searching desperately for attention, and Yuuri feels tears spring to his eyes.

Yuuri has known this was going to happen since he won gold at Nationals last year, known the second he had gotten back to St. Petersburg and Viktor had collapsed into his arms, breath still shaky from the cold a week prior. Viktor had mumbled about _vulnerable_ and _scared_ and _want_ , half in English and half in Russian, voice hitching and breaking and hitching again as he struggled through anxieties and coughs alike.

Yuuri gathers Viktor to his chest and holds him close.

“I know, Viten’ka. I’ve got you.”


	2. Callout Post for Viktor Nikiforov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! i did warn you i'd be slow on the updates, and it's finals week :( but here's the next chapter!! its pretty long to make up for the wait :)
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! special thanks again to iceprinceofbelair for everything <3 <3 <3
> 
> lyubov moya- my love  
> solnishko- sunshine  
> schast'ye moyo- my happiness  
> lyubimaya- darling
> 
> TW for one emetophobia mention and mentions of anxiety

Yuuri registers three things when he wakes up for the second time; he’s freezing, there’s a warm hand rubbing his back, and he’s about to sneeze. He pitches forward and finds his nose buried in a tissue, the hand on his back moving to tangle in his hair as he sneezes three times in succession. He looks up blearily to see Viktor, throwing away the tissue in his hand and moving towards Yuuri with another.

“Good morning, lyubov moya _._ Blow your nose.” Viktor’s voice is hoarse but soft, and Yuuri complies before cuddling closer to Viktor’s warmth, relaxing when he’s engulfed by fever-warm arms. “Bless you, sweetheart.”

“Mmm. How are you feeling?” Yuuri mumbles, pressing his forehead against Viktor’s chest. His breathing sounds steady, even if it’s congested and short, but Viktor’s skin is too warm and he’s sniffling before he answers.

“Chest hurts, mostly. But I’m fine.” His breath catches wrong on the word, though, and suddenly Viktor buries himself against Yuuri’s neck and coughs, entire body shaking with the effort. Yuuri pulls them both upright, letting Viktor keep his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, and softly strokes through the silver hair.

“Fine, hmm?” He muses, and Viktor glares up at him with wet eyes, rubbing at his throat.

“Chest hurts. And my throat, uh, a lot. Congestion isn’t bad yet. Really tired.” He lists off softly, pulling away from Yuuri with what looks like fear in his eyes. “Um, and hot.” He’s stumbling over his words now, fingers running over the frayed edges of his jacket. Yuuri catches his hands and gently kisses the knuckles, his own head pounding against his ears.

“We should take your temperature then.” Yuuri finally manages to say, and he grabs for the thermometer on the bedside table at the same time that Viktor grabs for his phone. “Are you- are you taking selfies?”

“Yes?” Yuuri slides the thermometer into Viktor’s open mouth and hears the camera shutter before Viktor grabs for his inhaler and tissue box, arranging them around his silver hair.

“I love you, you know that?” Yuuri murmurs fondly, looking down at his flushed fiancé pouting at his phone. He leans in and presses a kiss to Viktor’s jaw, eyes brushing closed as he hears the beep of the thermometer before the camera shutter. “You ridiculous man.”

Viktor gazes up at him with open eyes, warmth spreading across his cheeks, and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat (or a few). “I love you too.” He mumbles around the thermometer, hands coming to rest at the small of Yuuri’s back. “So, so much.”

 

**Instagram: @v-nikiforov**

**[Photo: Viktor with a thermometer in his mouth and fever-flushed cheeks. He pouts at the camera. Yuuri is kissing his jaw with his eyes closed, one hand cradling Viktor’s other cheek.]**

Liked by **@yuuri-katsudon** , **@viktor-and-yuuri** , and 1146 others             **10:17 AM**

 **@v-nikiforov** @y-katsuki thinks i’m even hotter than usual today, so we’re staying in bed ;)

_view all 584 comments_

**@skating-sister** this caption gives me life omg pls feel better

 **@christophe-gc** why are you like this (the answer is probably me but still. why)

 

**GroupMe: #SkaterShaming**

**10:23 AM**

_Christophe Giacometti: [Photo: a screenshot of the above Instagram post]_

_Christophe Giacometti: “@y-katsuki thinks i’m even hotter than usual today, so we’re staying in bed ;)” why are you like this **@Viktor Nikiforov**_

_Yuuri Katsuki: its the fever talking_

_Viktor Nikiforov: I cannot believe_

_Viktor Nikiforov: my own fiancé_

_Viktor Nikiforov: the man I am going to marry_

_Viktor Nikiforov: the man I am currently snuggling_

_Viktor Nikiforov: would betray me like this_

_Viktor Nikiforov: [Photo: an official promotional image of Viktor]_

_Viktor Nikiforov: see, I am hot_

_Yuri Plisetsky: Viktor that’s literally just the first photo on a Google search of your name_

_Yuuri Katsuki: of course you’re hot_

_Yuuri Katsuki: you have a 38.9 [102] degree fever_

_Viktor Nikiforov: I cannot believe I’m marrying someone who’s so rude_

**Christophe Giacometti changed group name to Callout Post for Viktor Nikiforov**

_Christophe Giacometti: for trying (and failing) to flirt with his fiancé through instagram, for googling himself to prove his hotness, and for this snapchat I just received_

_Christophe Giacometti: [Photo: a grainy shot of Yuuri sitting up in bed, the word ‘TRAITOR’ sloppily written in red]_

_Yuri Plisetsky: **@Christophe Giacometti** I just got this_

_Yuri Plisetsky: [Photo: A picture of a laptop screen with an official promotional image of Chris, the word ‘TRAITOR #2’ also sloppily written in red]_

**Christophe Giacometti changed name to Traitor #2**

_Yuuri Katsuki: this is the man I have chosen to marry_

_Yuri Plisetsky: good luck_

_Yuuri Katsuki: I love him_

 

“Hmm? No thank you.” Viktor says stuffily when Yuuri offers him a tissue.

“Vitya, you’ve been sniffling for the past ten minutes. Your nose is running. We’re not going to run out of tissues.” Yuuri says kindly as Viktor sniffles yet again. “Blow your nose, _solnishko_ , you’ll feel better.”

Viktor takes the tissue quietly and wipes under his nose, glaring at the wet tissue like it had personally betrayed his illness. He knows his face is red from something besides fever and he doesn’t look at Yuuri as he reaches for another.

“Vitya. Hey. What’s wrong?” Yuuri tilts his head up with one finger under his chin, and Viktor glances down at his pajama pants with a sheepish smile. His eyes have been watering since he woke up and he can feel his nose running again and he knows how he looks right now, red eyes and nose and cheeks, pale and tired and weak, chapped lips and whistling breath and sweaty hair.

“Jus’ don’t feel good.” He mumbles, biting his lip. It’s not exactly a lie and not exactly a truth, but Yuuri seems to recognize whatever it is he isn’t saying and opens his arms in silent invitation. Viktor lets himself be held, but Yuuri’s hair is longer than usual and it’s messy and Viktor’s breath is suddenly hitching with the sneezes he’d bitten back earlier. To Viktor’s mortification, Yuuri seems to notice, because once Viktor’s brain is sufficiently panicking about _sneezing on his fiancé oh my god I’m so gross what the fuck_ , Yuuri already has a tissue pressed to his nose and a hand on his back.

“Y-Yuuri, I-” He manages to say before his chest convulses and his nose is pressed against Yuuri’s hand. He sneezes once and looks up at Yuuri with miserable eyes before another sneeze takes over his chest.

“Ow.” He winces and curls up a little closer to Yuuri, throwing away the wet tissue in his hand. At this rate, they actually will run out of Kleenex because he’s _disgusting and snotty and wet and selfish_ and Yuuri is still patiently holding a hand against his face.

“Blowing hur’s.” He mumbles, shoving at Yuuri’s wrist.

“That’s not what I’m waiting for, Vitya.” Yuuri says softly, eyes fond. Viktor looks up at him a split-second before the third sneeze wrangles its way out of his throat, and not even Yuuri is that fast because Viktor recoils in sheer embarrassment when spots of moisture appear on Yuuri’s t-shirt. Viktor doesn’t speak, apology lost in his swollen throat, just pulls away from Yuuri’s affection because he just ruined it all and he honestly doesn’t think he can take the look of revulsion that is definitely on Yuuri’s face right now. Viktor pulls his knees to his chest and rests his cheek on them, not looking towards his undeniably-absolutely-disgusted fiancé. There’s no way he gets through this one, not a _chance_.

“Bless you, Vitya. Can you look at me please?” Yuuri’s own voice is rough, his cold adding an edge to the words, and Viktor shakes his head quietly.

“Okay. That’s okay, Vitya. May I touch you?” Viktor nods and feels an arm come around his shoulders, a thumb rubbing circles above his elbow.

“I’m not angry or upset at you, Vitya. Not at all. You’re sick, I’m your fiancé, sneezing sort of comes with the territory. It’s honestly alright.”

“Yeah, but I’m _gross_ and _drippy_ and I _know_ I’m not a fun person to be around when I’m sick because I’m _clingy_ and also, as previously mentioned, _gross and drippy._ ” He huffs out, eyes wet.

“Okay. I am also in love with you, Vitya, and if being in love with you sometimes means asthma attacks and being sneezed on and holding you when you have a fever, then I’ll take it. Even if those things were bad things- which, honestly Vitya, they’re really not- it wouldn’t change anything. I’m not going to suddenly stop being in love with you because your nose is running, Viten’ka.”

Viktor’s posture loosens a little- his arms are a little less tight around his knees, his hands are no longer balled into fists, he turns his head to look at Yuuri. Yuuri smiles widely at Viktor, leaky nose and chapped lips and all, and presses a kiss to the pink tip of Viktor’s nose. They aren’t quite there yet- Viktor still pulls back after the kiss, hiding his reddening cheeks behind his knees, apology at his lips- but they’re making progress, and Yuuri knows when to stop pushing, especially when Viktor’s breathing is thick and he’s starting to curl in on himself with exhaustion.

“Vitya? Would it make you feel better if I changed out of this shirt?” Yuuri asks softly, and Viktor nods. “Okay. I’m going to change, and then I’m going to go get some water, okay? I’ll be gone for a few minutes.” Yuuri stands up shakily and Viktor immediately has his hands on Yuuri’s waist, and _shit he’s hot_ the heat of Yuuri’s fever is obvious through the t-shirt.

“You okay?” Viktor asks, biting his lip again, this time with worry.

“I’m okay. Just a head rush.” Yuuri smiles, gently placing Viktor’s hands on the bed next to him. He changes quickly, fever chills shaking his body briefly, but Viktor doesn’t think he will ever be in an incapacitated enough state to not appreciate the warm lines of Yuuri’s bare back, muscles stretching just under the surface as they’re covered by blue cotton.

“I’m going to get more water, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Yuuri reminds him, placing the tissue box in his lap before kissing Viktor’s forehead. The door shuts quietly behind him and Viktor Nikiforov is so, so in love with Yuuri Katsuki, he can barely breathe.

Viktor blows his nose.

He was right- it is _disgusting_.

 

“Vitya? Sweetheart, I love you, but I need to go get your tea off the stove before it burns.” Yuuri gently moves from under his too-warm fiancé, who sniffles heavily before turning onto his side. “Sit up, I’ll bring it in here.”

A kiss is pressed to Viktor’s forehead and Yuuri makes his way slowly to the kitchen, trying to ignore the pounding in his own head as he does so. His lungs and sinuses are starting to protest the lack of rest, and the light congestion from the past few days has turned into a near-constant sniffling. He blows his nose on a paper towel and washes his hands before bringing two mugs of tea and a plate of toast back into the bedroom; the last thing Viktor needs on top of his flu and asthma is Yuuri’s cold.

“Yuuri?” Viktor murmurs, taking the mugs from his hands and setting them on the bedside table. “You look tired.” He wants to say more, but the fever is muddying his thoughts and he doesn’t know the word for ‘shaking and sniffling and sick but trying to hide it’.

“You’re sick too.” He tries, but that’s not right, but Yuuri seems to understand, but what if he doesn’t, what if Yuuri doesn’t understand and gets worse and it’s all Viktor’s fault, Yuuri was sick _first_ and its Viktor’s job to make sure he’s okay, and Yuuri’s _not okay_ and that means that Viktor’s not doing his job-

“Vitya. Vitya, hey, look at me.” Yuuri gently takes Viktor’s chin in his hands, turns it so their eyes meet. Yuuri saying his name grounds him the same way it always has, gives him a place to stand.

 “Yes, I am tired, and I am a little sick. But Vitya, it’s just a cold, okay? Even if it’s a little worse because I’m taking care of you, it’s just a cold, Vitya. You have the flu, and your asthma’s been acting up because of it. Of the two of us right now, I have more of an ability to take care of someone, right?” When Viktor nods quietly, Yuuri smiles and sips from the glass of water on the table, voice edging its way towards hoarse.

“If I take care of you right now, maybe my cold gets a little worse, maybe I’m sick for a little bit longer. If you take care of me right now, Vitya, you could really hurt yourself, and I know your lungs are already hurting you. So I’m weighing the scales, and right now, to me, it makes sense for me to help you get better, since you’re feeling a lot worse and the consequences of you getting worse are a lot scarier.”

Yuuri finishes with a harsh cough, but smiles at Viktor again anyway. Viktor knows he’s right, remembers himself giving similar speeches when Yuuri curls into himself with anxiety and feels guilty for keeping Viktor awake, remembers how he would never trade the extra hour or so of sleep for Yuuri’s wellbeing, and he knows that Yuuri is right.

“Do you think you can trust me on this? I don’t want you to worry about me- I know that doesn’t make it easier, but I don’t want you to feel guilty for taking care of yourself first. If you can try your best to just worry about getting better for right now, I’ll try my best to take care of myself and you as much as possible, okay? Does that sound fair?” Viktor nods his agreement before reaching for the still-steaming mugs next to Yuuri. They drink and eat in silence, broken only by sniffling breaths, Viktor’s chattering teeth, and, on one occasion, Yuuri sneezing.

 

“Sorry I’m all drippy.” Viktor mumbles against Yuuri’s neck, sniffling yet again before rubbing his face into Yuuri’s shoulder. “Know you like this shirt.”

“We have a washing machine.” Yuuri responds, stroking the soft hair at the back of Viktor’s neck. The t-shirt in question, a soft cotton that Yuuri picked up sometime in college, is currently littered with small, dark spots from Viktor and his runny nose trying to get comfortable. “Is the Mucinex helping with your chest?”

Viktor reaches for a tissue before settling between Yuuri’s legs, curling up with his own legs close to his chest and forehead brushing against Yuuri’s chin. “Yes. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

 

**GroupMe: Callout Post for Viktor Nikiforov**

**1:48 PM**

_Traitor #2: viktor hasn’t posted on Instagram in like three hours_

_Traitor #2: is he dead_

_Traitor #2: did he succumb to the flu_

_Traitor #2: do I have to write a touching-yet-distant eulogy_

_Yuuri Katsuki: Can confirm that Viktor’s not dead_

_Yuuri Katsuki: Just very asleep_

_Traitor #2: and I had such a good story for his eulogy too_

_Traitor #2: In all seriousness, though, are you both doing okay?_

_Yuuri Katsuki: He’s okay- he’s been sleeping for a while after finally taking meds. Fever’s still a bit high, but the coughing fits have stopped for now._

_Yuri Plisetsky: Only Viktor would manage to contract the flu in fucking April_

_Traitor #2: living legend indeed_

 

“Need any help?” Viktor wanders into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Yuuri at the stove. He kisses behind the other man’s ear and rests his forehead against Yuuri’s neck, warm and sleepy and happy.

Or, at least, that’s what Viktor wants to happen. He wants Yuuri to know that he’s okay, to not worry about him and his stupid lungs. He wants to be able to cuddle his fiancé without having to blow his nose every few minutes. He wants his head to stop pounding and his chest to stop rattling and his body to just work the way it was supposed to.

In reality, he stumbles off the couch to a shot of pain and nausea through his temples, gasping at whistling breaths as he leans heavily against the wall. Tension fills his lungs and he forces air to join it, forces himself to breathe because _he will be okay_. Apparently, asthma doesn’t care about his force of will or need for Yuuri to not worry or desperate desire to not be a sniffling, wheezing mess, because he’s suddenly doubled in on himself, coughs scratching their way out of his throat as he sways under his own body weight and lack of oxygen.

“Vitya. Vitya, here.” His inhaler is pressed into his hand but he shakes his head; it’s pressed with more force as someone pulls him into a sitting position, soft hands on his back. “Vitya, what are you doing?” The voice says softly, but Viktor can’t answer because he can’t stop coughing and his eyes and nose are streaming with the effort and he looks absolutely awful and so he just tries to breathe. He can’t convince Yuuri he’s okay if he doesn’t breathe.

“Inhaler, Vitya.” The voice- Yuuri, of course, who else?- reminds him once he has his lungs under control, and he nods before pressing it to his lips. Yuuri wipes under his eyes with a tissue, gentle and caring and soft, and Viktor blushes as he realizes what he must look like right now, red and puffy and sweaty. He wants to cry with how much he loves this man who is ever-so-carefully running a tissue above his chapped lips. But he can’t, because then Yuuri will worry, and Yuuri is already sick.

Viktor doesn’t want to make Yuuri feel any worse.

“N-Need any help?” Viktor tries, but it’s shaky and sets off another few coughs in his chest. Viktor buries his head in Yuuri’s shoulder and kisses his collarbone, but everything is sensitive and he sneezes twice and turns red. “Sorry, I’m really-” The third sneeze squeezes its way out of his chest, catching on his throat, and he sags against Yuuri with the effort, hiding his face as best he can. “I’m really gross right now.”

“Bless you. It’s okay.” Yuuri murmurs, passing over a tissue and kissing the top of Viktor’s hair. “You’re sick, it’s okay, you’re allowed to be gross.” He reminds Viktor and sighs. “What happened? That sounded painful.”

Viktor doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want him to know just how much his lungs sucked after any little stress, just how weak and vulnerable and gross anything worse than a cold made him. But he looks at Yuuri, with his warm brown eyes and small smile, lips parted slightly to breathe through his own congestion, and Yuuri has always been both Viktor’s weakness and strength.

“I didn’t want you to worry. I wanted to come help, but that, um, that didn’t happen.” Viktor blows his nose wetly and blushes, turning away from Yuuri’s kind eyes. “Can-Can I have another tissue?” He blows his nose again, a thick, congested sound, which turns into thick, congested sneezing. “I’m sorry, I know it can't be much fun to take care of your sick fiancé when you have a cold. Asthma sucks.”

“Anxiety sucks.” Yuuri offers in response. “It’s probably not much fun to stay in bed with your anxious fiancé on your birthday. You’ve seen me after my panic attacks, Vitya- hell, you’ve seen me _during_ them, when I’m screaming and snotty and pulling my hair out. You’ve watched me fall apart in hotel rooms and seen me so upset that I could barely breathe. I’ve thrown up in your lap, Viten’ka, and you think I’m going to be grossed out by you blowing your nose?”

Viktor doesn’t answer, just buries himself in Yuuri’s chest and holds tight, pushing them both into the pillows. Yuuri strokes his hair and rubs circles against his aching chest, and Viktor sniffles and coughs and accepts.

 

**Instagram: @v-nikiforov**

**[Photo 1: Yuuri, asleep, with his cheeks dusted pink. His lips are slightly parted and he holds a tissue in his hand.**

**Photo 2: Viktor, face flushed from coughing, holding his inhaler and making a thumbs up.]**

Liked by **@shinyandgold** , **@viktor-on-icce** , and 1015 others                     **4:08 PM**

 **@v-nikiforov** me: yuuri you take my breath away <3

yuuri: no, dear, that’s the asthma, please use your inhaler

_view all 347 comments_

**@katsudon-love** wait you have asthma? i hope you feel better soon!!

 **@sk8r-boi** omg i hope u feel better but also pls tell me this was an actual conversation???

Viktor smiles quietly as he scrolls through the comments on his recent photos, looking down at the sleeping man in question. Yuuri had fallen asleep not soon after Viktor himself had woken up coughing, citing a headache before curling up with his head pillowed on Viktor’s thigh.

Viktor can still see the tense lines around Yuuri’s eyes and he runs a finger over them gently, trying to soothe the pressure as best he can. He’s snoring- Yuuri only snores when he’s sick, a soft, snuffly noise that only serves to make Viktor’s heart clench, not that he needs any more pressure in his chest- and his nose is running profusely, leaving dark spots against Viktor’s pajama bottoms.

“Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor murmurs, gently pressing a tissue against his nose. “What am I going to do with you, lyubov moya?” The sentence is punctuated with a sleep-soft mumble from Yuuri, whose eyes blink open and look up at Viktor. His face scrunches up and he sneezes quietly before nuzzling against Viktor’s leg, and it honestly might be the cutest thing Viktor’s ever seen.

“Bless you, darling. You always sneeze when you first wake up.” Viktor muses, passing another tissue to Yuuri, who blows his nose and presses closer.

“Hmm?” Yuuri blinks up at him, face clouded with sleep and confusion, and Viktor’s heart leaps again.

“When you’re sick. It’s how I know you’re coming down with something. You wake up all warm and adorable and sniffly, and you get this really confused look on your face before you sneeze. It’s precious.” Viktor runs his hand through Yuuri’s sweaty hair, pulling it away from his eyes.

“How many times have you been around me when I’m sick?” Yuuri blushes in response, but he’s smiling up at Viktor tiredly and he grins back.

“Enough.” Viktor says simply. “I know lots of things about how to take care of you, Yuuri.”

“Can-Can I hear some of them?” Yuuri asks quietly, sitting up and leaning against the other end of the couch, legs tangled with Viktor’s.

“I know that you always feel worse when you first wake up, and that every cold you come down with lasts twice as long as it should, even if it’s only half as bad. I know how to tell when you’re getting overstimulated and that, most of the time, the most helpful thing I can do is leave. I know that you snore when you’re congested and which of my jackets to wash when you start getting sick.” Viktor motions to the faded red hoodie currently wrapped around Yuuri’s torso, and his hands tighten in the pockets when Viktor meets his eyes.

“I know not to buy scented tissues. I know that most of the time, I’m helping with the anxiety and not the cold. And that you sneeze when you wake up, even when you don’t know you’re sick yet.” Viktor rubs his socked foot up Yuuri’s calves and the younger man blushes and grins again.

“You’re a sap, Vitya.”

“I know that too, Yuuri.” He smiles again, warm with fever and love, and he knows that Yuuri is terribly congested and that his own cough is going to come back in a few hours when the medicine wears off and that they’re both running temperatures, but his headache is gone right now and Yuuri’s smile is adorable and he doesn’t feel like he has the flu, he’s just warm and a little tired, he’s a sap and he’s in love and he knows how to take care of his fiancé, and his fiancé is smiling at him too and Viktor giggles against the couch. He hears movement and feels Yuuri shifting, but he just closes his eyes and smiles until Yuuri shakes his shoulder.

“Vitya? We should take your temperature again.” The words are slightly muffled by the thermometer sticking out of Yuuri’s own mouth, and Viktor laughs brightly before letting Yuuri place the other thermometer under his tongue. He pulls his adorable fiancé down next to him and opens his camera app immediately.

“Don’t you have enough photos of me sick from earlier this week?” Yuuri protests, trying to talk around the thermometer. His voice is taking on a breathy quality, tight and congested around the end. Viktor knows that catch of breath, knows that their teasing, affectionate moment is soon going to be taken over by the reason they’re both sprawled on the couch at 4:30 in the afternoon.

“I will never have enough photos of you.” Viktor declares. “Besides, you’re adorable like this, and we match.” He’s not wrong; both Viktor and Yuuri are sporting sweaty, messy hair, fever-flushed skin, and thermometers between their lips, and when Viktor drops his head to Yuuri’s shoulder and closes his eyes, Yuuri indulges him and lets the camera go off. It’s the first time in a few days that they’re both feeling up to this type of banter, and he’s not about to spoil Viktor’s good mood.

“No posting these.” Yuuri mumbles as a response, pulling out his own thermometer and checking the reading. “Unlike you, I really don’t want the entire world to know when I get sick.” He coughs into his hand, trying to clear the tickle in his sinuses, but it just makes him wince.

“Of course not. I’ll send them to you though.” Viktor tries to kiss Yuuri on the forehead, but the thermometer gets in the way and Yuuri instead ends up with half of Viktor’s lips on his temple and plastic pressed against his eyebrow.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He laughs, pulling the plastic out from between Viktor’s teeth and biting his lip at the numbers. “Your fever is higher than this morning, but that’s to be expected. Do you want to stay on the couch or head back to bed?” The dull edge of congestion has returned to Yuuri’s voice, and the happy grin drops from Viktor’s face as Yuuri takes in another labored breath. His eyes are watering and the moment is lost as Yuuri swallows against the pressure.

“Couch. It’s easier to watch TV.” Viktor says simply, pulling himself upright and reaching for the box of tissues. Yuuri is leaning forward, chest heaving, and Viktor grabs a handful of tissues and holds them against Yuuri’s face, other arm around his back. Yuuri shakes his head and pulls out of the embrace, but takes the tissues from Viktor’s hand before he turns away.

“S-Sorry, Viktor, but the last thing you need is my cold.” Yuuri says miserably, and Viktor sees him bite his lip nervously before the lower half of Yuuri’s face is covered in Kleenex, eyes shut tight as sneezes pour out of his throat.

“Oh, _Yuuri_.” Viktor whispers sympathetically. The man in question looks up at him, eyes streaming, and Viktor opens his arms for a hug. “Yuuri, schast’ye moyo, come here.”

It’s a testament to how bad he must be feeling that Yuuri crawls over into Viktor’s arms, letting his body weight drop against his fiancé’s chest. Viktor takes a sharp intake of breath as Yuuri nestles his head under Viktor’s chin, eyes closing. He struggles to get his lungs under control, the added pressure of Yuuri against his chest causing Viktor to hitch before Yuuri pulls away.

“Come back, Yuuri…” Viktor almost whines, breath rushing out of him. “Come curl up on me, I know you don’t feel well.” His breath hitches again and he swallows, willing himself to not go into yet another coughing fit.

“Not a chance, Viktor, not with your asthma.” Yuuri says, pale and breathless. “You don’t need any more pressure on your chest. Sit up a little.” Viktor shifts forward and allows Yuuri to slide in behind him, relaxing against his warm frame. “What do you want to watch?”

**Instagram: @v-nikiforov**

**[Photo: A selfie of Yuuri and Viktor leaning against their headboard. Viktor is pale and looks exhausted. Yuuri has one arm around Viktor’s torso and the other on his forehead, with his chin resting on Viktor’s shoulder. Yuuri is looking towards Viktor with a fond, worried look on his face.]**

Liked by **@yuri-forever** , **@viktor-fan-1** , and 1029 others              **9:17 PM**

 **@v-nikiforov** woke up this morning with the flu :( thankfully i’ve got the cutest doctor around to help me feel better <3 @y-katsuki

_view all 387 comments_

**@katsudamn** im sorry you don’t feel well! get better soon!

 **@christophe-gc** this is gay

 **@christophe-gc** i like it

 

“There we go. Drink some water, Vitya.”

Viktor breathes raggedly as he drops against Yuuri’s shoulder, exhausted at being startled awake from yet another coughing fit. It’s the fourth one in half as many hours and everything is _burning_ \- his eyes from lack of sleep, his throat from five _fucking_ hours of coughing, his everything from the last few days of sharp, cold winter and the last twenty-nine years of sharp, cold life.

He’s maybe slept- an hour? An hour of collapsing against Yuuri with exhaustion, trying to force his overworked body to sleep against the whistling in his throat and fire behind his eyes before being forced upright by yet another sharp scrape against his lungs. Yuuri has slept less, bringing glasses of water to chapped lips and stroking sweaty hair until Viktor finally falls into a fitful sleep for fifteen minutes.

“I should- I should go sleep on the couch.” Viktor wheezes out, weakly pushing at Yuuri’s arms around his stomach. “You haven’t slept.” He can see it in Yuuri’s eyes (red from irritation and dark circles stamped under from exhaustion), in his arms (shaking ever-so-slightly in the way they do when he can’t quite stop them), in his body (slumped against the pillows, begging to let him rest).

“Like hell.” Yuuri says in his rough voice, arms tightening. “Not an option, Vitya, especially not when you need to be sleeping upright.” His tone would have left no room for argument if he didn’t cut off at the end with a powerful cough of his own. “Drink some water and try to sleep again for me?” Yuuri pulls Viktor against his shoulder, exhaustion obvious on his face, and neither of them have the energy to argue when Viktor closes his eyes and tries to ignore the now-constant tickle in his throat.

 

“Why- why the _fuck_ don’t you have cough syrup, Vitya?” Yuuri tries to keep the frustration out of his voice- he’s tired, his fiancé can’t sleep more than twenty minutes without waking up clawing at his throat, Vitya is curled around himself with the pressure in his sinuses, his own head is pounding more and more each second, and he _can’t find anything to fix any of these problems_.

“On the bedside table?” Viktor asks, confused as he stares at the bottle that Yuuri’s been taking the past few days. “There’s a bottle right here, lyubimaya, it’s okay.”

“I _know_ , Vitya. That stuff has dextromethorphan, which will fuck up your antidepressants. Where is the stuff I bought when we were visiting Chris? The one he said worked when you were younger? Because everything else in this goddamn apartment has guaifenesin and that will help you _in about three hours once you’ve coughed your lungs out._ ” He swears under his breath and tries to ignore the shaking in his hands. His mind is racing and running out of room fast, and the anxiety that will power him now is going to cause a crash very soon if he doesn’t get some _goddamn proper sleep._

“Sk-skate bag. Or suitcase. Ziploc.” Viktor manages past the weak coughs that always follow his fits. Yuuri slams the medicine cabinet closed, ignoring the ringing in his ears that it causes, and digs through the black bag at the foot of the bed, throwing Viktor’s workout clothes behind him as he searches, desperately, for the answer to his problems. His fingers wrap around the green bottle in triumph and Yuuri squints at the label before swearing and moving towards Viktor.

“Where’s my phone? I need to call Chris, ask what’s in this, I don’t speak- whatever the fuck this is, and I’m not giving you anything that I can’t figure out.” Viktor slowly moves to hand Yuuri his phone, squeezing his fingers in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

“Yuuri, the bottle’s already open, lyubov moya, I’ve had it before-” Viktor tries to say, tries to calm the pacing of his fiancé across their floor and the way he’s clenching his fists into his pajama bottoms, but it’s cut-off when Yuuri starts speaking on the phone.

 

Chris is curled up in an armchair, scrolling through movie recommendations on Netflix, when his phone gives off a loud jingle. He reaches for it immediately, a hiss of panic escaping when he sees the contact name.

“Yuuri? It’s like four in the morning over there, what’s up?”

“Chris.” An exhale of breath, through which Chris can hear the panic physically leaving Yuuri’s body. “The- the, uh, cough syrup we bought when we visited you. What’s in it? Viktor hasn’t been able to sleep and I was _stupid_ and bought myself Robitussin at Skate America because it’s what I took in college but Viktor can’t take that and he can’t stop coughing and so he can’t sleep and I can’t read the damn label.” His voice is creaky and fast, a hint of congestion building at the ends, and Chris reaches for his glasses and moves the computer from his lap.

“Yuuri. Breathe. Let me check. Is it a green and yellow bottle? Red or blue top?” He walks quickly into the bathroom to rifle through his medicine cabinet, finding the bottle in question, still with a faded _Vitka_ written across a piece of duct tape.

(The bottle is almost empty, and Chris remembers bringing it to every competition after the age of nineteen, when Viktor had caught a cold after the GPF and Chris had spent the banquet with the gold medalist coughing into his chest and shaking from chills.)

“Blue. It’s open, so I’m assuming he’s taken it before, but I don’t want to give him an expectorant at night.”

“That’s the nighttime one, it’s just a suppressant. He’s been taking it since- oh, god, since like 2010? It works for about ten hours, but he’s going to wake up congested as hell.” Chris says quietly, reading over the label in his hands. “The one with the red cap? That usually helps during the day. Neither of them are combined with anything, so Vik can take painkillers or antihistamines or whatever with them.”

“Chris, you’re a godsend, thank you.” Yuuri lets out another deep breath and sniffles, and Chris can hear even clearer now the congestion in his voice.

“Not a problem. Get some rest, Yuuri; you sound like you’re coming down with whatever Vitya has.”

“Thank you, Chris.” Yuuri repeats, and he hears the beginnings of Viktor’s cough- as if he could ever forget, when he had woken up to the sound dozens of times- before silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you have a lovely day!!
> 
> please feel free to leave comments/constructive criticism/screaming below!!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> comments/concrit/etc are always welcome + appreciated!
> 
> have a good day!


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